


The Barbarian Queen

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avvar, Eventual Sex, Unwilling Hero, Violence, War, barbarians - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:58:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lynna An Moira O Fox-Feet is ferocious: she is Avvar, a wild barbarian woman of the wilds. Despite her clan's rigorous laws and her thane's refusal, Lynna accompanies the warriors on a raid. When she awakens, however, she finds herself prisoner and accused of mass-murder. Armed with a strange green marking, her fierce spirit, and a yet-untapped gift, Lynna sets out to destroy a demon and lead the Inquisition.<br/>Unfortunately for her, not everyone is as unaware of her spark as she is herself. Aside from facing almost certain doom, Lynna must also face her heart being torn in three--or rather, being torn between three very different, very alluring men.<br/>~~~<br/>AU where the Inquisitor is Avvar</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unlikely Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Captivated](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156692) by [QueenoftheProcrastination](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheProcrastination/pseuds/QueenoftheProcrastination). 



> Just a brief note before you start reading: this work is inspired by "Captivated", a wonderful fanfic on this very site by the great QueenoftheProcrastination. Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156692

                _Captured._

Although she had always known kidnapping was an inevitable part of her life, Lynna had always expected her fall to come at the hands of her future husband. Instead, she had been overcome by _soldiers_ , led by a fierce woman with a long scar upon her face. Lynna bent her head to the floor of her cell, straining her wrists against her shackles, and she wept.

                Part of her sorrow came from the blistering pain in her left hand. When she had awoken, Lynna had immediately noticed it: a mark, glowing bright green in the center of her palm. The Mountain Father had forsaken and cursed her.

                And why shouldn’t he? Lynna had disobeyed their thane, had left with the raiding party despite her gender. Only Wren, her oldest friend, had recognized her beneath the war-furs and paint. Lynna had sworn him to secrecy and Wren had agreed, sticking close to her side as they approached their target: the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Their thane had intended to take advantage of the precarious bonds between the Templars and the mages and take what riches were hidden there.

                And now he was dead—along with Wren and probably all of the other raiders. And Lynna was captured, weeping on the cold stone floor of an unfamiliar keep.

                A noise assaulted her ears and Lynna drew herself up, wiping her face as best she could with her soldier. The door before her opened to reveal the woman from before. Now that Lynna was not half-dazed and dying, she took more note of the woman’s appearance: shaggy black hair, probably cut with the woman’s own blade; strong armor and a wicked blade upon her back; a long scar over cheek that highlighted her already fierce appearance.

                The first woman was accompanied by another, much more lithe figure. The second was also female, though she was clothed in spy robes and had a hood pulled far over her face. Tendrils of red hair fell around her face, but her identity beyond this was concealed by shadow and fabric.

                The dark-haired woman leaned close to Lynna, her eyes aflame. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you.”

                Lynna straightened her shoulders and went to speak, but found her mouth dry as sand. Disgruntled, she could only let out a weak sigh. Her captor hissed in disgust and shook her head, continuing her speech.

                “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is _dead.”_ The last bit of news shattered what remained of Lynna’s hope: the fiercest of her clan’s warriors were dead. _My family. My friends._ Lynna’s head drooped forward as the dark-haired warrior paced before her. “Except you.”

                At this, Lynna raised her chin. Again, she tried to summon her speech, but failed.

                Lightning fast, the woman reached forward and grabbed her wrist. Lynna cried out as it was yanked forward and the mark of her hand sputtered to life, green fire erupting from her skin. “Explain this!” The warrior woman shouted.

                Lynna blinked back tears, determined not to let her captor see her cry. With the last reserves of her strength, she finally found her voice: “I can’t.”

                The dark-haired warrior threw her hand back and Lynna flexed her shoulder, relieved she had done no more. “What do you mean you _can’t_?” She asked, her words laced with poison.

                “I don’t know what that is or how it got there,” Lynna responded truthfully.

                Before she could register what was happening, her captor had snatched her up by the front of her furs and yanked her forward. Lynna cried out again as the cold cut of the shackles bit her wrists, worrying sores that had already formed there. “You’re lying!” The woman hissed, bringing her face close enough that their noses nearly touched. Lynna blinked back tears, desperately trying to find the words that would save her life.

                Thankfully, the woman’s companion stepped forward and pulled her back. The dark-haired warrior stepped back, a disgusted look aimed at her companion. The robed woman made no remark upon this, but only shook her head. “We need her, Cassandra.”

                _Cassandra._ Finally, a name for the fierce woman who held Lynna’s life in her hands.

                Lynna raised her gaze to the red-haired woman and the pain of Cassandra’s earlier revelation came back to her. “I can’t… believe it. All those people… dead?” In truth, she only cared for those she had lost, but it would not hurt to extend her regrets to this woman. Perhaps an alliance could spell the means for her escape.

                The redhead said nothing, her eyes cold and stony. Instead of answering Lynna’s question, she continued along the same lines as her partner: “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

                Lynna bowed her head and forced herself to focus. Her mind was foggy, but she fought against it. Images slowly came to her: dark shapes coming from a sickly green mist, herself racing up a mountain… and the woman. The woman, reaching forward to pull her to safety. _She saved my life!_ Lynna shared this information with the red-haired woman, noting that Cassandra appeared antsy beyond her companion’s shoulder. _Good. Let that bitch suffer as she has made me._ As the robed woman finished her questioning, Cassandra pulled her back and whispered something to her. Lynna strained, but could only make out what she thought to be the other woman’s name—Leliana—and the words “the Rift”.

                _What in this realm is the Rift?!_

Leliana nodded to Cassandra and left the room without a second glance. Panic seized Lynna as Cassandra approached. If the warrior meant to finish her off now, there would be no one to stop her. Just as Lynna thought of ways she could attack, Cassandra procured a key from the folds of her clothing and unlocked the shackles at Lynna’s wrists. She looked up at Cassandra, startled, and rubbed the angry flesh carefully. “What _did_ happen?” She asked carefully.

                It was strange, but Lynna could have sworn she saw Cassandra’s expression soften. Perhaps she had been wrong about the woman and there was a heart hidden below her armor.

                “It will be easier to show you.”

                As Cassandra left the room, Lynna knew she was meant to follow. Although she was weak—how long had she been prisoner, exactly?—she managed to get to her feet. Her body ached and cried out, but Lynna gritted her teeth against the pain. _I am Avvar! I am fierce!_ Lynna forced one foot forward and then the other, slowly following Cassandra from her cell. As she stepped outside, her eyes were drawn to a scar across the sky: the same green fire that seeped from her palm seeped from the sky.

                Her eyes widened. Though she had yet to realize what she was getting herself into, Lynna realized escape was a very, _very_ slim possibility.


	2. A Jolt on the Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where our unlikely Inquisitor reveals a dangerous secret

                Haven was warm this morning, the air pleasant and filled with birdsong. As Lynna awoke from her slumber and dressed within the garments Leliana had secured for her, she wondered what surprises were in store for the day. With her initial success at sealing the Rift, she had found herself welcomed among this ragtag team of heroes— _the Inquisition_. Although Roderick was still fuming and refused to think of her as anything but a monster, Lynna had been surprised to feel almost _welcomed_ by the others.

                Before leaving her chambers, Lynna glanced at herself in the mirror upon her wall. Her thick, curly red hair was interspersed with braids and decorations: little beads of bones and glass, bright cord, a few stones. It curled around her head like a fire, highlighting flecks of gold in her grey-green eyes. A spattering of freckles filled her cheeks and brushed over her curved, small nose. Leliana’s clothes suited her well: a pair of sturdy brown trousers, a loose tan shirt with sleeves that tightened just below her elbows, thick dark boots. Without a second thought, she reached for the blade she had secured for herself and fastened it over her chest, the buckle just over her heart. True, she was no beauty as some of the women she had encountered—the ones who had packed their finery before leaving and now strolled about the grounds in ridiculous skirts and corsets—but she didn’t think herself half-bad. Lynna found the basin and washcloth under the mirror and gave her face a quick scrub before departing, heading just outside the main gates.

                A sort of ritual had been established between Lynna and the blond warrior who called himself Cullen. Every morning, Lynna would awaken and join his troops for a bout of training. If the others thought Cullen tough on them, he was a right demon to her: several times he had pulled her away from whatever man she sparred with and had challenged her himself. On each occasion, she had found herself in the dirt and spitting curses, the tip of Cullen’s sword aimed upon her. Even when he was not busy beating her down, he had eagle eyes upon her and was quick to correct: “Watch your form, this is serious business!” “Lift your sword, lift your sword, lift—for Maker’s sake, LIFT YOUR SWORD!” “Your right side is open, anyone could swoop in and dismember you!” “I’ve seen handmaidens with more ferocity! You are Avvar, ACT LIKE IT!”

                Although Lynna had been considered skilled by her clan, she thought herself a weakling in Cullen’s eyes. The blond warrior caught her every mistake, her every flaw and he chiseled away at them. Before his eyes, Lynna was stripped naked and defenseless.

                Which was not entirely a bad thing.

                Truth be told, she bore no ill will for Cullen. In fact, they would occasionally run into each other off the battlefields. Lynna would never admit it, but these unplanned meetings delighted her: it gave her a chance to interact with Cullen without seeming a fool. Cullen, for his part, always seemed equally pleased to see her and would usually suggest a stroll around the grounds together or a quick meal at the inn. Lynna always accepted, desperate to spend more time with the perplexing lion of a man. For someone who seemed to enjoy thrashing her completely, Cullen treated her with the utmost respect and care when they were alone.

                Today was no different than many of the others. After she failed to block an easy blow with her blade, Cullen was at her elbow in an instant. “If this had been a _real_ battle, Sean there would have just had your life. _Focus,_ Lynna!”

                Lynna let out a frustrated sigh and lunged for her opponent, but her enthusiasm left her off-balance and Sean easily blocked. Before Cullen could spit out another reprimand, Lynna spun on her heel and raised her blade.

                What happened next, she could have never prepared for.

                Perhaps it was a combination of the heat, which had once seemed pleasant but now left beads of sweat on her skin. Maybe it was the stress of Cullen beside her, ready to dissect her every move. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the stress of keeping her secret bottled for years upon years for fear of what her thane would do. Lynna could not pinpoint a singular cause, but it happened nonetheless.

                As she brought her blade down upon the recruit, the metal suddenly crackled with life. It was as though the blade had been forged with lightning. When it made contact with Sean’s sword, he gave a guttural shout and then was blown backwards, the air around them sizzling with flashes of electricity. The next thing Lynna knew, the man before her was crying and tugging at his gloves. She got a glimpse of black flesh and smelled burnt meat and her stomach turned. Before anyone else could react, she had dropped her weapon and she was running.

                The last gates opened easily and then she was gone, her legs pumping as she raced for the woods. Just as she managed to get to the tree line, however, her feet were suddenly frozen. Lynna shuddered and looked down, her heartbeat stuttering as she saw that her boots were encased in ice. There was still snow on the ground around Haven, but a spontaneous freeze? Before she could ponder it further, a slim figure stepped into view.

                Solas frowned at her, crossing his arms over his chest. His staff was at his back, but Lynna knew he had to have been the one behind the ice. She could fill the energy in the air… energy similar to what she had just witnessed, on the training field.

                The elf frowned at her, studying her face. Lynna was panting now as she tried desperately to move her feet, but her efforts were useless: she was trapped. The same fear she had felt in the cell with Cassandra fluttered in her throat.

                “How peculiar,” he began, raising an eyebrow, “that you forgot to mention this particular skill to us.”

                “And what skill would that be?” Lynna gritted her teeth and yanked at her left leg with her hands, fighting against the grip of the ice. Just as she was sure she could get herself loose, it melted and she tumbled back, landing square on her bum. She looked up, annoyed, to see a half-smile tugging at Solas’s lips.

                “You’re a mage.” It was not a question so much as a statement, one that froze the blood in her veins.

                The next thing she knew, the world around her was tumbling away.


	3. Chapter 3

                When she awoke, the first thing Lynna noticed was the restraints. She tugged to free herself, but to no avail: they held her in place, allowing only the smallest of movements. Lynna grunted and held up one wrist, furrowing her brow at the strange material. It was neither metal nor cloth: it was some sort of weave, hard and unforgiving, with little bright blue veins. Lynna tentatively tried to summon the lightning—the power from before—and immediately cried out in pain.

                The veins glowed brighter, as though actively repressing the call for power.

                “Don’t bother trying to get out of them. The cuffs are a lyrium infused weave—they’ll repress any magic and any further attempts to use it will likely have you scarred for life.” Lynna jumped at the quiet voice and looked up to meet Solas’s cool, calm gaze. She snorted in frustration, the fear she had felt in the cell with Cassandra curling inside of her belly.

                “So this is it? You’re going to keep me chained up forever? Or perhaps you’re going to kill me now and be done with it?”

                “On the contrary, we mean to get to the bottom of this.”

                “We?” Lynna snapped to attention, her eyes scanning the room and landing on a large, dark shape behind Solas. As her eyes narrowed, the figure stepped forward and Lynna blinked in surprise. Cullen, looking very much unwilling and out of place, stared a hole into Solas’s back.

                “We,” he answered softly, an unreadable emotion tinging his words.

                Lynna sank back into the mattress—her own, she realized with a start—and noticed that she was bound in her own room. She flushed at the thought of the others here, invading her privacy and her personal space. True, when she had lived with her family, her room had been shared… but these people were not her family, nor were they truly her friends.

                They were merely obstacles standing in the way of her return to the Avvar.

                _If there’s even anyone to return to… or anyone that will take me._ By now, her clan must have received words of the many deaths. Perhaps they also knew that she had survived and they blamed her in some way, much the same as the Chantry did here.

                “Lynna.” Her attention snapped back to Solas, who sat frowning at her. Lynna straightened herself up as best she could. “How long have you had the gift?”

                “ _Magic_ , you mean?” She spat the word. “As long as I’ve been alive, I suppose. My thane, however, saw no use for witchcraft. He made sure that if I practiced, I would pay for it.”

                “Pay for it how?”

                “Beatings, whippings. He would have me bound in his stables and whipped until I repented. The first time it happened… I nearly killed one of ours, a friend. He let me go that time, but any time after that… it was punishment.” The memory of the whip singing through the air, striking her until she bled made Lynna shivered. Old, silver scars on her back throbbed to life. The panic within her swelled: what if she was to be punished again? Her eyes flickered to Cullen, who still avoided her gaze. She knew he was a Templar, she knew what purpose they served. Was he here to enact justice?  
                “Lynna,” Solas purred and she looked back to the elf. She was suddenly struck by how old he seemed: _eternal._ “We’re not going to hurt you.”

                She blinked in surprise. “But the recruit, Sean, he—“

                “Is perfectly fine. Dazed and a bit of a wounded ego, but he’ll heal nicely.”

                Tears stung her eyes. She had never expected to hear such good news. “So why am I being held here?”  
                “That is up to you, Herald.” Solas reached forward and touched one of the restraints. The veins glimmered beneath his fingers, but did not attack him as they had done with her. “When you passed out, your magic broke free. No one was seriously hurt, but you certainly depleted our dwindling herbs. I’m willing to work with you—train you, if I may—but only if you are willing.”

                “And if I’m not?”

                “You’ll be released into the hands of the Chantry.”

                Lynna swallowed painfully. She may not trust this Inquisition, but she certainly had no love for the Chantry. The memory of Roderick’s unkindness when she had first come to them… Lynna shivered, a scowl stretched across her face. “Do I really have a choice then?”

                Solas smiled, but it did not touch his eyes. “We all have a choice.”

                Lynna chewed at her lower lip, weighing her options. Even though she feared pursuing this strange power, at least there was the possibility of freedom while she remained here. Although Lynna had not been able to slip away unaccompanied (yet), she had faith the others would soon drop their guard.

                As she thought, her gaze drifted again to Cullen. Despite their worlds-apart backgrounds, he reminded her very much of the Avvar warriors: strong. Large. Handsome. He was the kind of man her thane would have admired, the kind of man she had one day dreamt of bringing her to marriage. For a moment, his molten gold eyes flickered up and their gazes met. Lynna drew in a sharp breath and suddenly her decision was crystal clear.

                “I’ll train with you.”  
                This time, Solas’s smile was clearly cold. “We begin in the morning.” With that, both the apostate and the Commander swept from the room, leaving Lynna to ponder her future.

***

                Cullen remained mostly silent for his short walk with Solas as they headed to the makeshift war room. Although he was secretly glad Lynna had agreed to remain with them—because of her mark, of course—he despised having to use backhanded methods to do so. In fact, when Josephine had suggested forcing her to choose, he had vehemently opposed.

                “Don’t look so sour, Commander. We need her to deal with these Rifts.”

                His lips tightened. “Not like this. She shouldn’t be strong armed into submission.”

                Solas said nothing and the guilt in Cullen’s stomach did not avail.


End file.
